the adventures of retirement
A cloudy, breezy morning, comfortably mild. I hear hot weather is promise.
Today’s Lectionary: How does the Genesis reading look from Isaac’s point of view? Abraham is supposed to be the hero for his faith – but Isaac’s just an unhappy instrument in a story of which Abraham is the star.
News yesterday of three senseless killings in England, two triple and one double, in Cumbria, Berkshire and Manchester. We weep with those who weep.
It’s a sunny morning today, with some thin high ice-cloud. I ate a small wayside cherry.
God of life, we remember those
who died too soon.
We pray that the words of Jesus may come true:
“Blessed are those who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.”
We express our sorrow
over those who have died in acts of violence this weekend,
and over the unimaginable numbers
who have been taken too soon by COVID-19.
May this nation once again
become a place of mercy
and of hope.
The rain has cleared and now there are some sunny intervals. There’s a nice breeze. I glanced down from Bottoms Dam and saw some geese striding majestically across a small piece of Etherow flood plain. Well, that’s how it seemed at the time. They looked herd-y. I think I might have glimpsed a quick flash of a raptor flying around the trees near Rhodeswood Dam. Later I ate a small bilberry.
Living God, our lives are made of moments, decisions,
some small, some big.
Be our presence and our guidance
in small moments and momentous ones.
Amen.
A decent morning, with some sun and some cloud, a bit more of a breeze and far less haze than there was earlier in the week, but still sweaty if one exerts oneself enough. A slightly longer walk this morning, partly with Janet, and seeing one or two butterflies I’d never knowingly seen before. I could see one of west Cheshire’s little escarpments from the road above Padfield. It’s Saturday, and the top two divisions of football in England are playing again, but in front of cardboard crowds. So it’s hello again to mild despair as I look up scores on the BBC website. Can the town where I last worked as a minister avoid the indignity of successive relegations? In the lowest moments I find it hard to think they have any assets other than a supportive crowd – and they don’t have that now.
As the little signs come
that normal life is beginning to return;
the pain has still not gone away.
People still die.
New people are becoming infected
in significant numbers.
We keep in mind all those
who are bearing the pain right now.
God give strength and peace, we pray.
Give healing for our divided society,
and the peace that comes from justice.
In the Lectionary, Hagar the slave is thrown out of Abraham’s household, along with her son. Throughout that long passage, he’s not given a name – as if his history ends there. It’s a bitter kind of freedom for them, released into destitution and the daily fear of death in the wilderness. As the boy grows, they learn to get by in that harsh environment – you learn to do what you have to do to keep alive. We hear about God’s promise to them as well, a nation from the son. But it’s not the mainline of scripture history, it’s a sidetrack. If some people are chosen, then some people must be unchosen. There are also stands of inclusivity in the Old Testament Scriptures, like the story of Ruth the Moabite; but in the main the understanding of God is of one who has favourites. This grim theme is not completely undone until Jesus comes and people reflect on his life and its significance. Romans 6:3… “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus…” the ‘all of us’ (as we see elsewhere) is now open to people of all nations and of every social standing.
But there’ s still a choice to be made. This time, the choice is ours, though. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus invites people to follow him – but he’s honest about what that’s going to cost – and it will be everything.
There’s been a bit of sun this morning, but mostly cloud. Also there were a few spots of rain just after I got in. It was a bit of a ‘Goldilocks’ walk: nice.
Yesterday evening, more thunder, and some heavyish rain. This morning, more of the standard kind of rain, modest, moderate, the sky generally cloudy and no flashes and bangs.
And from the Lectionary…
“10:28 Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.
10:29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.
10:30 And even the hairs of your head are all counted.
10:31 So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew’s gospel)
The ‘do not be afraid’ is in the context of expected persecution (or ongoing persecution for the original readers maybe). And the sparrows… I’ve seen enough wildlife documentaries take a dark turn, to know that sparrow life is quite hazardous. The point (it seems to me) is not that bad stuff won’t happen, but that in all this stuff, the Father is still with the sparrows/us.
Another morning of low clouds and mistiness…
And the wall-mounted foxgloves have now burnt most of the way up the flower-spike…
After two and a half days of thunderstorms popping up a few miles to the west, we had our own last night. The rain didn’t go on for very long, fortunately, because there might have been quite a lot if it had.
Not everyone has the privilege of gazing at the sky all the time. Some folks have to keep the world going.
We thank you God
for people who do the work
that’s essential to life.
Often it’s hard work,
sometimes it’s dangerous, or unpleasant,
unwanted, or underpaid.
We honour them,
and ask that they will always
get fair treatment.
Just as the second aeroplane of the day flew over, I thought I caught a sniff of burnt kerosene. It can’t have been that one, maybe it was the earlier one. But probably not – we’re miles from the airport, though quite close to the glide path. Must’ve been an olfactory hallucination – or maybe I’ve become hypersensitive over the last few months. Or it could easily have been something else anyway. Besides which, why were they landing towards the southwest today anyway? Wouldn’t that be downwind? There we are – that’s as much mystery as I can summon up today.
There’s some mid-level cloud as well this morning. It’s all fairly quiet at the moment, a nice gentle, mild day. The grass in the garden grows taller, and the seed-heads sway gracefully in the gentle breeze. I’ve had a walk, and Janet’s writing.
A warm sunny morning, promising a sticky day. As I walked by the trees, I could see the reservoir on the other side of the trees, water reflecting the sun. My movement past the trees was much more than the movement of waves in the water, so it looked as I kept glancing as if the water was not moving at all, like rippled silver.
The Lectionary for next Sunday seems to feature some things about conflict, like the split in Abraham’s dynasty, and this from Jesus … “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34) Now in one way, that is a perfectly good prediction – we know enough about politics to know that sometimes people will cosy up to a lie and hate the truth. All Jesus had to do was to speak the truth, and there would have been opposition. And I like to think of it as a prediction. But I can’t help thinking there’s more to it than that. Did Jesus intend to bring division and controversy? – it may have been an inevitable consequence of saying what he said, doing what he did and being what he was. The rest of the passage is a disturbing read too. Some of those words could have come from the leader of a 1960s cult. Why did Jesus say these things, and if he did say them, why did the writer choose to include them in that gospel? And how does it fit with the angels’ song? More anon.
Another fair morning, with a moderate easterly, and the low clouds coming and going. When the clouds are down, they seem to linger more in the woodlands than in open country.
Also there was a mini- rock fall where the trail goes through a low cutting.